I Know I’m Supposed to Miss Them But…

Okay, so today I have made three batches of browned butter Rice Krisipie treats, one pear basil tart, one loaf of crusty bread, one recipe of chocolate chip candy corn cookies, one batch of peanut butter caramel apples, a bowl of blue cheese coleslaw, and I’ve prepped everything for plum honey ribs, prosciutto and fontina mac ‘n cheese, and parmesan yellow squash. Oh, plus there was that round of pancakes and eggs for breakfast, but technically Vincenzo made those. My house smells like fall and pajama parties, Mom’s house and Halloween, and I’M HAVING ALL THE SMELLS TO MYSELF!! It feels kind of illegal.

Can you almost smell it?

It’s not that I’m doing all this just to fill my time; quite the opposite, actually. As lovely as it was to go through three pounds of butter in one afternoon, I really wanted to be scrapbooking and gardening, taking a long walk, maybe putting one eyeball on the beast of a thing I’ve started writing.

But then, if I had done all of those things I probably would have wished I could have had more time to bake and clean and bake some more. And it would have felt lonely here without all those smells that came to visit.

I know I said that nothing in life could ever match the joy of having babies, but leaning over a pot and smelling the nutty, rich, golden aroma of browning butter has more similarities to holding a sleeping baby than I ever knew.